September 15, 2002
Sometimes it happens so unexpectedly I was driving home from work today. There were no other cars on the street, and the long light of the setting sun cast an orage glow on the asphalt. In the gutters, dry leaves have had begun to collect, rustling across the street with each gust of wind like little rabbits. I rolled down the window, breathing in the air: crisp and dry, cool with the edge of winter. Suddenly I realized, hey, it's fall.

September 12, 2002
Another reason, perhaps, why I shouldn't post while drunk. A private joke; I don't expect any of you to get it. Sorry. I think this whole posting will be a little selfish. I feel like indulging with esoteric references that I fear will make sense only to me. I am trying not to be afraid, to step out boldly in the world. I should not be afraid to be who I am, I should not be afraid to live my life as i want to, to be afraid of hurting others. i should not be afraid of making mistakes. But do you ever feel that what you want is always out of reach, that what you have is never quite enough?

It used to be that I would not tell people about myself, or about my inner most thoughts because I felt that somehow, in doing so, I would lose my identity. Now I have swung into the opposite direction. Hide my feelings? Pah, I will declare myself to the world. I have realized that how I feel or who I am will not be affected by what I say. I refuse to live in fear.

September 11, 2002
I feel like I should say something, especially after throwing around the term "nine-eleven" all day, as if it's just a date. When it's not, and it never can be just a date ever again. The problem is, I still have not come to terms with how I feel about the whole issue. I fear the core of what I feel will be regarded as somewhat too controversial and unconventional to be posted here. Though having said that, I am sure my friends will question me about it. (Of course, now that I've prognosticated that, I wonder if they will).

I am sad, i am disbelieving, I am fearful of how our government policy and the public sentiment may have changed as a result of it. But I am also reminded of how in many countries (and perhaps some U.S. neighborhhoods, even), being shot, bombed, tortured, threatened has simply a way of life, not just a single event to remember. For us, life goes on, and our general well being and opulent life style remains unthreatened and unchallenged.

September 10, 2002
Aya! It's been eight days since my last post!? I dare not look at my site statistics; I'm sure readership has dropped significantly. Shame on me. I apologize. Again, with the slow DSL. I know, excuses excuses. I tried to sneak a post in at work, but failed.

Let's talk today about music. I was talking to a couple people for whom music is an enjoyable diversion but nothing more. I find this rather intriguing, in a way, because music is so integral a part of my life experience, crucial in creating, enhancing, or altering my moods. It's almost as if life has a soundtrack; without it, I am lost. .

I used to be annoyed at people who would blare their music out of their cars at top volume. Come on, I don't need to listen to your crappy music, I would think. How presumptuous, how inconsiderate. Then somehow, somewhere (NPR maybe?) I heard guy talking about this, who admitted that he would pump up the volume on what some would consider his offensive music. It wasn't about making a statement, it wasn't about trying to piss people off. It was simply that he thought the music was awesome and he wanted to infuse the world around him with it. And that's how I feel, as I drive along, my stereo turned up definitely higher than is healthy for my ears. To be able to feel the music, to touch it, to let it construct the world around you.

Usually it is a particular album or song that I can't get enough of, that I urgently need to listen to over and over again. My finger obsessively taps the replay button on my CD player, wanting Bjork to once again whisper the lingering, erotic "cocoon" in my ear again. Perhaps it's the smooth, cold sounds of Depeche Mode "Ultra." Or the engulfing energy of NIN.

September 2, 2002
How was your Labor Day weekend? Mine was fucking awesome, thanks for asking.

Imagine this: you have a frustrating time at work (yes, I had to work on Sunday) but that's O.K., because your day rapidly gets better. You drive out to your friend's house, leaving your woes behind with each passing mile. When you arrive at the party, it's so very hot hot hot, but luckily, someone puts a cold beer in your hand, and you sit your ass down in a comfy lawn chair. You look around you, taking in the laughter and the excited chatter of all your dear friends. You don't want to talk yet, you just want to enjoy the moment, savor the love and happiness that surrounds you. You take a healthy swig of beer, feel the cold liquid slide down your throat as you settle down into the chair, not planning on getting up any time soon. Gradually the alcohol begins to work its delicious poison on your brain cells, and a single, uncomplicated thought fills your mind: "Ahhhhhhhhh..." Yes, it was that good.

Thanks to all of my friends; you really are the greatest. You listen patiently to my insecurities, you humour me when I digress on some tangent, you are kind and generous hosts, and you make me laugh...

On another note: sadly a slow DSL connection (isn't that supposed to be a contrary in terms or something?) as well as a flurry of social activity (well, O.K., that part's not sad) has kept me busy and off the web.

Actually, my mom is coming to town tonight. There is something about the arrival of a parental figure that brings out the childish in me. It's as if I am transported back in time to when I was a snot nosed little teenager. I find myself assuming the old roles, the old immaturities come surging forth. It may lead to somewhat volatile times, I fear.